Fallen Knights
by Lord 0f Storms
Summary: After saving Aelinore from her murderous husband, the Arisen finds herself in the capital's dungeon, in the most unlikely company. One-shot.


**Fallen Knights**

...

Nerys wondered what the sentence was for molesting a noblewoman.

She was innocent, of course, but that didn't matter. Their precious duke and duchess had spoken, so obviously the guards must carry out their orders and mete out whatever justice they thought she deserved. Nevermind that Nerys had been the one who had stopped the duke from throttling his wife to death whilst in the throes of madness. How many people knew about his true nature, she wondered. There were whispers that something ailed him, but even his own councillor feared to speak too candidly on the subject.

Politics. Court intrigue. Such was not the fare of fisher folk. Life was much simpler in Cassardis. For one thing, catching fish to eat was the most important aspect of their coastal life, and they didn't have to worry that the fish might trip them up in some grand conspiracy, so that the fishermen didn't see the noose until it closed about their neck. It was too different here.

In Gran Soren, the people were harder and colder. They'd seen too much and enjoyed too little. Nerys wasn't sure they could even understand the simple pleasure in the companionship of another human being. It was a wonder they shunned the Pawns for being cold and different, when they themselves seemed that way to her. Only a few, like the innkeeper on the market square actually showed any warmth, and that was probably just to encourage further patronage. Staying in this city too long made even simple fisher folk cold and hard.

The air grew darker and danker as they descended to the dungeons. The guards weren't overly rough, not with an Arisen, and Nerys felt a flicker of hope that maybe her punishment wouldn't be any greater than a short spell in the dungeon.

The dungeons didn't exactly engender the air of hope though. Not with its close walls, heavy air and strange chill. How was it so cold when the air in the castle above was balmy and fresh? She disliked the smell too – the foetid stench of unwashed bodies, human waste, dirt and blood.

One of the guards pushed her down the narrow corridor where the cells lay, whilst the other locked up her bow, daggers and staff. Without them, she felt as vulnerable as that day on the beach of Cassardis, when the dragon had ripped the heart from her chest. Nerys shuddered. She knew for any normal person, their heart would be thudding in their chest now – from anxiety, fear, hope. Nothing moved in her chest. She felt nothing, almost as though she were dead. Sometimes when she woke from sleep, before the memories rushed back to her, she felt that silence, and thought she was dead.

The guard stopped outside a cell, and she stared about as he unlocked the door, contemplating her chances of escape. Her eyes skimmed past the cell opposite, until she noticed a pair of eyes glittering back at her from the darkness. Lord Julien, she remembered. Nerys had interfered in his duel with Mercedes, fearing that he would kill the Hearthstonian knight. But after her arrow punched through his armour, unhindered with the aid of magick, she resurrected him to stand trial.

Nerys pulled her gaze away as the guard grabbed her manacled wrists and pulled her into the cell. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw the rings hooked into the wall at different levels, and various ones embedded in the ceiling. The guard attempted to latch her manacled to one of the hooks, and Nerys jerked her hands back instinctively.

"None of that now," he reprimanded. "Better you co-operate for me, than misbehave and make me call my friend over. You wouldn't like him. He's not half the gentleman I am."

He made to grab her wrists again, and Nerys smacked the metal of the cuffs across his face, leaving a red gash. The guard grunted in pain. Something felt wrong. If she was just to be incarcerated for a few nights, why would they need to chain her to a wall? The horror stories she'd heard told by Gran Soren folk and Pawns ran through her mind. Even if the cityfolk exaggerated about what happened to criminals in the dungeons, surely the Pawns wouldn't. They weren't capable of it.

"'Twould be wiser if you co-operated," advised Julien from his cell.

"Quiet!" snapped the guard Nerys had hit.

She turned on heel, running through the door, intending to snatch her staff and rush up the staircase to freedom. Even with her hands bound, she could hold a staff and use magic. If she got to her pawn, the two of them could make their way to freedom, and figure out what to do afterwards. Maybe the other pawns would even aid her against the duke's guards.

Instead, a fist crashed into her face and sent her spiralling painfully into unconsciousness.

...

Nerys woke to cramping in her arms, and struggled to her feet to relieve the pressure. Her wrists felt scraped raw from the metal manacles that she now realised were chained to the hoops in the ceiling. Her forehead was pounding, and no doubt bruised. She thought of how indignant her loyal Pawn would be at the thought of her Arisen's beating. It gave her a sense of comfort that someone wouldn't forget she was in here. Even if they weren't allowed to enter the castle, she knew if she didn't return, her Pawn would come for her.

Nerys tried to roll her shoulders to ease the tension from them. She was stood in the centre of a wide, low-ceilinged, dirty cell. How filthy the floor was, she didn't know, but she could feel dirt between her toes. Wait, her toes? Aching as her head was, she hadn't even noticed that she was wearing some dirty smock and a pair of shorts. What had happened to her armour, her clothes?

Fear spiked through her. What had they done whilst she was undressed? She couldn't feel any pain or wounds, other than the ache on her head and in her joints from being chained at an awkward angle.

"They haven't begun their torture yet," came the voice of Lord Julien. Though in truth, he was no lord now. "They prefer their captives awake, so that they may savour the power they have over you. They will want to hear you cry."

Nerys glared. No doubt he thought this was her just reward for having him incarcerated. He may have gone willingly enough when she revived him, but enough time in this place had surely changed his mind now. "They'll have nothing from me," she said vehemently, twisting her hands in the manacles. She only succeeded in scraping more skin.

"I must say, I'm surprised to see you on this side of the iron bars, Arisen." He spoke thoughtfully, as though they had encountered each other during a stroll through the noble quarter, not in a prison cell. "I had thought you one of the duke's cronies. You certainly seemed to be a staunch supporter before. What has changed?"

"I've not thrown my lot in with Salvation, if that's what you're implying," Nerys grunted as she tried to pull the hook from the ceiling.

"I'd not have–" Julien was cut short as a whip lashed against his cell door.

"Don't make me gag you, lordship," the jailor said gruffly, the one who'd punched Nerys. "This one's got enough on her head, without you plotting treason with her. And you're not so high and mighty now that I can't turn the lash on you again."

The foreign noble stared back coldly, and the jailor pulled a ring of keys from his belt, unlocking the door to Nerys' cell. She thrashed wildly against her bindings.

Her struggles fell short as he kicked the feet from under her. Her shoulders wrenched in their sockets as she swung in midair, flailing back to her feet. Nerys gritted her teeth. She wouldn't cry out. They wouldn't have that pleasure. She'd endure the whipping stoically, and then she'd plot her escape before they returned with her sentence.

The jailor pulled the back of her tunic up, tying it up so that the bare skin of her back would be exposed to the lash. Nerys vowed again to remain silent.

"You and the duchess then," the jailor began, conversational. "You must be good friends. Know her when you was kids, did you?"

The lash came down, and ripped a cry from Nerys' mouth. Its bite stung like fire on her skin.

"Poor duchess, she gets so lonely. I bet she was really looking forward to a visit from her friend. Invited you herself, did she?"

He grunted with exertion as the whip came down again. It met the previous lash mark, and the pain doubled, as did Nerys' yell.

"Popped up for a spot of tea with your old friend, did you? Must've been a fine cup of tea, to come all the way over here in the dead of night," he said, his voice mocking now.

Nerys gritted her teeth to stop herself from crying at the next blow, but somehow that felt less important now. As raw lash-wounds started to criss-cross her back, she just wanted him to stop, for her Pawn to come and save her. What use was being Arisen – seen as less than human, but with so much more responsibility – when it left you powerless and nothing more than a pawn of another kind to be cast away at noble whim?

The jailor was still talking, about the crime she'd been accused of, attempting to force the duchess into a sexual liaison. She didn't know if the jailor believed it. It didn't really matter. He was in his element here, beating defenceless prisoners. Whether they were innocent didn't matter. As he paused the lashing to talk more, Nerys' eyes slid to Julien's cell, expecting him to be smug, gloating. But he wasn't watching at all. He was staring down the corridor at something she couldn't see. It occurred to her that having felt the lash himself, he might take no pleasure in someone else feel it.

"I've seen your sort before," the jailor told her, his tone developing a harsher edge. "Not unlike that one. You come to this castle, thinking you're untouchable. Powerful, famous, rich. Doesn't matter that you came from some rat-spit village in the south, you've got some title now. You're above the law and can do what you want. Well..." she could hear the grin in his voice. "You're not in the castle now, not proper. Down here, you're just another rat, grubbing around in these cells. You might have your fancy titles, but given time, the duke will call for me to get information out of you, find out just what plots you're involved in. When that happens, you'll be begging for the lash, I promise you."

He finally unlocked the manacles above his head, but Nerys couldn't do anymore than fall to her knees, her forehead pressed against the dirty floor, letting the air cool her hot, painful back. She almost wanted to touch it, to see what mess had been made of the flesh, but she couldn't have stood any more pain.

Nerys didn't even notice that he'd left the cell until she forced herself to sit up, pushed her hair away from her back, over her shoulder. Even the thinnest strands felt like another lash against the raw skin. Salty tears trailed down her face. She and Quina had read so many tales about the Arisen as children, even ones about the duke. The adventures they had and trials they faced always seemed so much more exciting and noble. She'd never read about one being held captive by a fellow Arisen, doomed to face torture.

What was wrong with the duke? Arisen were needed to fight the dragon, he should know that more than anyone. How could he imprison her here when his kingdom was under threat? Surely he could wait until after she'd stopped the dragon, somehow. Nerys was almost certain he hadn't believed the duchess' accusations of attempted rape. Maybe he had locked her down here because she'd witnessed his madness, just as he had sequestered his wife in her tower. Maybe the realm really was doomed against the dragon, with Duke Edmun at the head of its army.

Nerys tried to steel herself once more, as she had first done when she entered this strange city, and when she had first entered that den of vipers in the castle, only to have been made a fool by Feste. The dragon had taken her heart. No mortal could break it, break _her._ She exhaled slowly, gathering calm. And resolve.

"Tell me, which is it that hurts the most for you? The wounds to your body, or the wounds to your pride?"

Nerys stared sullenly through the bars. The fallen knight didn't appear to have moved since her beating began. Perhaps she had been wrong about him not savouring her pain. She didn't answer.

"I find that it was my pride that put me here, and my pride that suffered the most from my time here," he told her. "The flesh will heal, but the memory won't. Especially once you realise you are not the first to try and rescue the duchess from her husband."

That surprised her. It must have shown on her face, because he continued. "Aelinore has been seeking a champion since before I came to this country. At one point, she even thought I might be the one to save her." He snorted softly. "The duke has grown greatly paranoid about her behaviour, as one might expect."

"He was trying to kill her," Nerys snapped. "Might one expect that?"

"Truly? I had heard rumours of an illness, and it seemed clear to me that the duke is not interested in fighting the dragon. He gathers no true fighting force to face it, only a token number to guard the Greatwall. They would be lucky to defeat a chimera, let alone the wyrm. That is why I sought Salvation. Not because I believe in their doctrine, but because I thought this country was doomed. Better that fear of Salvation grip them and some flee over the borders, than believe in their duke and stay to die."

"Is this a confession?" Nerys asked. This man did not seem the same person she had killed at Windbluff. His cocky self-assurance seemed to have been replaced by doubt and regret. Perhaps she was not the only one to have died and been reborn in more than a physical manner. When the dragon took her heart, she became a new person, with such a task ahead of her. So many people had put their faith in her. Julien on the other hand, had lost the faith of so many, when he'd been discovered and died. Perhaps there had been a change wrought in him upon returning to life.

"It is, of a sort. But mostly it is an explanation." Julien gestured around their prison with a vague smile on his tired face. "This place offers much opportunity for reflection, if nothing else."

"Why would you tell me, of all people?" she asked. "I'm the one who put you in here. If you've spent this whole time..." Nerys winced. The pain seared on her back. How could he have suffered in this place and not feel resentment for it?

"I put myself here. My actions," he replied. Perhaps he hadn't lost all of his self-assurance, just the smugness that had come with it before. "I have no reason to resent you for that. Though I have one question for you, Arisen. When you escape this place, what is your intention? Will you seek revenge on the duchess? By your own logic, as the one who put you here, she should be punished."

Nerys frowned, contemplating. Part of her did want revenge. With every stabbing clench of pain when she breathed, the temptation was great. But she couldn't. The duchess was afraid, that much was clear, and rightly so, for a weakling would stand no chance defending herself from one who had defeated a dragon. If Nerys hadn't intervened earlier, Edmun would surely have killed his wife. That Aelinore had blamed Nerys... Having spent so long in this hard city, she could understand why the duchess wouldn't trust her freedom to a stranger. Especially when so many of her hoped-for saviours had failed her in the past. She could imagine that the duchess had been young and hopeful when she first came here, and had lost it all in the nest of vipers, just as Nerys had.

"I won't seek revenge on her," she replied. "She's a victim of the duke's madness. If anyone is to blame for what's happened tonight, it's him. If I hadn't been there, he would have killed her. There's not a chance she will risk contacting me again, and that means there will be no one to defend her if the duke attacks her. I must rescue her."

"And the dragon?"

"I haven't forgotten the dragon. I never could." She held a palm against her silent, empty chest. "But if I can't save one woman from her husband, how am I to save a nation?"

Julien smiled, and she was almost taken aback by the friendliness of it. In moments it was gone though, and back was his sombre expression. "I know how the people adore their duke, and would even follow him into his grave, it seems. I took it upon myself to push them further to the breaking point so that they would wake up. I had not considered that the duke is not the most important person in this equation. He might have given up, but I see that you haven't. You still have the drive to seek the best for others."

"A fine thing, stuck in this dungeon, as I am." She attempted to unravel her tunic over her back, but the pain was too much, and she gave up. "You are a penitent man then? I don't think that will sway the duke. Even had he his senses, he would be wise to think it a trap."

"I know. I will be executed."

"How can you sound so calm?" The thought of dying again, when she had come so close on that beach, terrified her.

"I've already died," he replied, sounding part content, part wistful. "This short time, until my death becomes final, is my opportunity to realise the wrongs I have done. My foolishness. I only hope that I am allowed to go to that death knowing you have killed the dragon."

"I hope that wish is fulfilled," Nerys said quietly. It was all so very wrong. Two people, who in their own way were trying to protect others and stop the havoc the dragon intended to wreak upon the people of Gransys were trapped in this dungeon, likely to rot or face death. Meanwhile, the duke was a raving madman, and everyone looked to him for salvation. Even before the episode with Aelinore, Nerys had felt he only tolerated her presence as a fellow Arisen. If it were not for Aldous' careful organisation and information-gathering, nothing would happen at all to prevent the dragon from taking Gransys.

"Someone's coming," Julien murmured. He disappeared back into the dark recesses of his cell, while Nerys stayed put. If the jailor was coming back for her, she wouldn't have the strength to fight anyway.

The one who appeared at her cell door, however, was not the jailor. Aelinore kept glancing nervously down the corridor towards the guards' table as she fumbled with the keys in the lock. The moment the door swung open, she fell to her knees in front of Nerys, coating her silken dress in filth.

"I'm so sorry!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry! You must think me evil. But I thought, oh, I thought the duke would cut me down where I stood. You don't know what he's like. I'm so very, very afraid of him. But I'm sorry. I didn't know they would hurt you like this. I thought I could get you out before..." The duchess' rambling fell silent, and she fixed Nerys with a tearful, earnest gaze, before her eyes fell to the keys in her lap. She held them out, a peace offering. "There's a secret way out of the dungeon. I can show it to you, but we must hurry! If the duke comes to find me, he'll know where I've gone."

Aelinore hurried to her feet, holding out her hands to help Nerys up. Nerys took the offer, needing the other woman's strength just to get up. As she winced and staggered for the door, Aelinore gasped. "What have I done?"

"Hush," Nerys snapped, sharper than she'd intended. "You might draw the guards."

The duchess shook her head. "They won't wake. I had Mirabelle slip some sleeping powder in their drinks. I... I'll go and fetch your things, and then you must be away. The secret route out is just through the cell at the end."

She put the keys gently into Nerys' hand, as though she thought the Arisen was now made of glass, and hurried down the corridor to where the weapons and armour were locked up.

Instead of making for the cell at the end, Nerys moved towards Julien's, hunched over to try and avoid moving her back too much. He approached as she was shoving the key into the lock.

"What are you doing?"

"You're free to go," she said. "There's no need to die yet. You can help me defeat the dragon. You of all people realise what a threat it is. That's why you helped Salvation, you said."

"I thought you wished me to stand trial," he pointed out, fair eyebrows arching.

"That was before I realised my liege lord is a madman, back when I thought you were simply a vain blackguard," she said, gesturing fervently for him to leave the cell, and then grimacing for the excessive movement. "Besides, in my current state I'll need someone to help me if I encounter any particularly ferocious bunny rabbits."

Julien chuckled, and she took that for acquiescence. As Aelinore returned, arms overflowing with weapons and armour, she glanced at him in surprise. "What is–?"

"We're both escaping, lest your husband execute a pair of innocents," Nerys replied.

"You're innocent, ser?" she asked Julien, wide-eyed and guileless.

"He's trying to stop the dragon, just as I am," Nerys said hastily, before the former noble could say something to the contrary. The duchess may have helped her, but she seemed the kind to be easily swayed, and there was that saying about not putting all the eggs in one basket. "The duke is mad and paranoid, and suspects plots that aren't there. He implicated Lord Julien, and no doubt he would have done the same to me. We must both escape."

Aelinore gave him a tremulous smile. "I knew you for a true knight. I'm so sorry for what's happened to both of you. Please hurry!" She squeezed Nerys' hand, her eyes shining the way maidens' eyes always shone in Quina's childhood stories. It unnerved her slightly, and she gave the duchess an awkward pat on the hand and a word of thanks as she pulled her boots on with as much haste as possible, donning the greaves and gauntlets. Julien had her leather chestpiece and red cloak, as well as her bow and daggers, though none were much use to him. His own arms and weapons were long gone. Staff in hand, Nerys headed for the escape tunnel as the duchess headed back to her own gilded cage.

As she unlocked the cell door and ducked through the tunnel, she heard the squeak of rats further on. Hopefully nothing more challenging would appear, but she wasn't so taxed that she couldn't call upon some fireballs.

They made their way through the dusty corridor, which smelt so strongly that she could only assume it was leading them to the waterways. It was even danker down here, yet Nerys felt invigorated just at the thought of getting away from the dungeon. She thought her Pawn might sense her and come to meet them. Whatever bond it was they shared, it seemed to draw the Pawn to the Arisen. With luck, she would come before anyone thought to trail her in the hopes of catching Nerys.

"You've put a surprising amount of faith in me," Julien noted.

"Perhaps I am just as much a trusting fool as Aelinore then," she replied, leaning awkwardly on her staff.

"Hmm, you are different to the duke, that much is certain. You truly mean for me to help you fight the wyrm?"

"In whatever way you can, even if it means returning to your own people and bringing aid somehow. There are still many men in this country who respect and admire you, whatever their feelings for the duke. All your men at the Stone in the North, for example. Such loyalty and dedication will be needed, if the duke really does intend to do nothing about the dragon. And Salvation."

"Then I will prove myself worthy of that trust," Julien replied sincerely.

She gave him a sidelong glance and smiled. "I hope so. I'd really hate to be wrong twice in one night."

...


End file.
